My Story....

Chapter Six

I remember talking to Marie about our issues. About how I was scared to tell you anything I was dealing with. About how I wished my mom and dad wanted me in their lives, how I wish I could go back to them. How I wanted an explanation on why they couldn't take care of me... How me and her were closer than you and I. But it made sense we were close. She was easier to talk to, she cared more than you did. Which is why she understood what I meant when I said "the bunny did it."

At this point in my life I didn't know who I was, or what I wanted to do. I stayed in my room any chance I got. I stopped hanging with my friends, I stopped participating in gym, art class, literally any and everything I used to do was no longer fun for me. But how would you know that? You never even said good morning to me anymore. I guess that all stopped years before this.

Now you're probably wondering what do I mean by,

"the bunny did it".

Am I correct? Of course I am. When have I been wrong? That was the year I decided to put down my pen and pick up the blade you decided to ever so slightly leave on the counter (not literally left for me to grab. It's a figure of speech. As to say you were the reason I picked up).  Everything I dealt with growing up, every stupid argument we had, I didn't take it on anyone but myself. She decided to tell you that night. I remember this so well because i was confused as why you said what you said. We were supposed to go to the store that night. Woodmans, because it was 24 hours? I went up there with her and she said,

"She's hurting herself."

You rolled over and specifically said,

"We'll talk about it in the morning." 

You rolled over and went back to sleep. Didn't even bother to look at me. We never talked about it.

That, that right there.. That was the moment  when I realized I didn't matter to me. You threw me away the way you throw away something you no longer have a use for. Like an old notebook, or a crumpled piece of paper. I guess I should have expected that. But what I didn't expect was what happened a few weeks later. You decided therapy would help. It never helped in the past so why would it help now? She asked me all kinds of questions. How was my social life? How were my grades? I answered and then..  She gave me homework. I didn't know therapy was like school. But I guess thats what therapists do? They give homework when they don't want to deal with it. She told me to go out and do something, something with friends. Maybe just get out of the house? I stopped seeing her after a few weeks because I could tell she wasn't really invested in helping me feel better. Neither were you.

I stopped eating again. I stopped leaving my room again. The only time I felt myself was when I was at school. My friends were the only ones I confided in. They kept telling me that I should leave, that I could stay with one of them. I said that I have two more years left, I could survive it. I couldn't and I didn't. After finding out I was hurting myself, you decided to move me back upstairs. Right across the hall from you. You would leave for weekends at a time. So when you were gone, I went back down stairs. I liked you being gone... I LOVED you being gone. You weren't there to yell at me or accuse me of the things I never did. I thought that when you came back that weekend, things we would be different, that somehow you would have changed and become a better person, realize your wrongdoings and finally accept me, love me for me? I guess that was just a story I spun into my head.

I asked you if I could go back to my room, you know the one we both agreed would be mine? You said no and went back to watching the news. I guess it was more of me just wanting my own space. A space where I could sing and breathe and be on my own and not have someone telling me that I'm too loud all the time. That was when I started filming videos. I never posted any of them.... I should have. It is honestly a great outlet to have. Speaking of which, go subscribe to my youtube channel